Category Archives: poetry

poetry, Writing

The Incestuous Poetry Relationship

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I had a one-year subscription to Poet & Writer magazine, six issues at a deep discount of $10. I’ve always enjoyed this magazine, since it pulls together a broader variety of writers and writing topics than do many other magazines for writers. Often on my travels I will enter a Barnes & Noble, take one from the rack, buy a vente house blend and sit and read it. Usually I find such good things it it that I’ll buy the issue and read it in the hotel. So eventually I took the subscription. P&W is heavy on features: the writing life, debut novelists; debut poets. It is short on the writing craft, moderate on industry news, and what news it presents is usually done through features. A little short on regular columns, too, compared to other writing mags.

I read these issues slowly, only on Sunday afternoon, in our sun room, falling asleep and reading in several sequences. I’m currently working through the January/February 2011 issue, the last one of my subscription (which I did not renew). The covers says it is “The Inspiration Issue.” Under the heading of “The Literary Life” are many interviews of writers, but a series of short interviews of debut poets especially caught my eye. These are poets who had their first collection published in 2010. What I found instructive was the university attended/degree earned and employment of these poets. Let’s see how the columens will format, as I know the spaces will look right on my screen but probably not once published.

Age         University        Degree        Employment
41           Iowa                 MFA         theatre writer/critic
30           Warren Wilson  MFA         creative writing teacher
39           Columbia          MFA         mother
27           Wisconsin         MA           library worker
34           Iowa                 MFA         PhD candidate
29           New Mexico     MFA        teacher
30           Oregon             MFA        job hunting teacher
32           George Mason  MFA        PhD candidate
39            New York U    MFA       assistant professor
39           Utah                  MFA       associate professor
35           New School (NYC) MFA PhD candidate

All degrees save one are masters of fine arts, and almost all now work at teaching others. Is this the way poetry publishing is going? If so, it’s incestuous. Others have said this before me, that the MFA-based system results in inbreeding of poetic technique, begetting the same poetic technique, as those who are taught by MFA profs become MFA profs.

C.S. Lewis had a word to say about this, as I discussed a couple of months ago:

Great authors are innovators, pioneers, explorers; bad authors bunch in schools and follow models. Or again, great authors are always ‘breaking fetters’ and ‘bursting bonds’. They have personality, they ‘are themselves’.

We certainly have poetry “schools”, in the broadest sense of the word. And we’ve had ’em in the past, too.

Of course, I admit it’s quite possible that this magazine is not all that representative of the full range of modern poetry. It might be only a small part of it. Still, I wonder if this isn’t at least in part explanatory of why poetry is so unpopular these days. P&W is a magazine filled with adds for MFA schools and workshops. Every university and college in the country that has a creative writing program has an ad in each issue of the magazine. The ads almost always feature a rustic cottage surrounded by trees and meadows. A photo of some poet who’s supposed to be famous but who most likely I never heard of is inset, and the ad includes a list of faculty and visiting professors, almost all of whom I never heard of. Low residency requirements are typically trumpeted.

The ads that are not for MFA programs are for writing retreats or workshops. The ads that aren’t for any of those are for contests. The ads are so similar from issue to issue that I pretty much stopped reading them.

So P&W is of some limited use, but I really like it. I’m keeping these issues, and may refer back to them from time to time. But watch out for the problem of the incestuous poetry community I will.

poetry

At Sunset

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At Sunset

On icy roads I drive with caution toward
my home, still seeing piles of work not done.
With traffic all around I can’t afford
to look behind to see the setting sun.

I speed the mower recklessly along
the field and hope the dark holds off a bit
to let me cut it all. A sparrow’s song
breaks through—oh, shoot, is that a rock I hit?

The fading light gives me so little time
to harvest luscious berries, blue and black.
I spent the day’s best part in corporate climb.
It isn’t fruit, but daylight hours I lack.

Oh Lord, you’ve blessed me much, but tell me when
I’ll watch, in peace, an evening sky again.

poetry, writer's platform, Writing

Why Do I Write?

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Two different writers sites/groups that I visit on the Internet asked that question this week. Chip MacGregor, in his blog post on Wednesday, answered the question “Why do I write?” And The Writers View 2, in their Thursday question, asked us to answer, in a sentence, the question, “What is your motivation for writing?” Interesting that these two sites should ask basically the same question at the same time. They set me to thinking about my own motivation for writing, and how I got to the point I’m at now.

It started back in the late 90s, I guess. I wrote some letters to the editor, and a couple of political essays. And a couple of work-place ditties. At the same time an idea for a novel started floating around in my head. Almost instantaneously I saw the beginning and the ending. The connecting scenes came to mind a bit later. I made a start on it, getting 15,000 words typed by December 2000. Meanwhile an idea for a second novel started to come together.

By this time I was attending a writers critique group twice a month, sharing my essays and chapters. I began looking for writing advice on the web. My goal was to complete my novel and have it published. My goal was to tell the world a story; a Christian story that might encourage people and change some lives.

I completed that novel in January 2003, and began to rework it while at the same time market it. I attended my first writers conference in March 2003, just a regional conference in Oklahoma City. I learned a lot there, especially how difficult it would be to find a publisher–unless I wanted to self-publish, which I did not. I learned that publishers really weren’t interested in writers who wanted to tell a story. They wanted writers who wanted careers as writers.

So I branched out. I found an outlet for some of my editorials in the local newspaper. When we moved from Bentonville to Bella Vista I changed writers groups to one that met weekly. Through that group I was able to get five feature articles in our local newspaper. I went to other writers conference and read other blogs. Since I prepared and wrote my own adult Sunday school lessons, I began to do these more formally with the intent of making them “publishable”. The road to being published looked harder with each conference session I attended and each web page I read. But I began to diversify and write articles. Oh, year, somewhere along the way I became interested in writing poetry, and realized I could write it and should write it. And then in 2006 there was the short biography I wrote of one of Lynda’s great-grandfathers.

That brings us to today. Novel 1 is finished, polished four times, and in the drawer biding its time. Novel 2 is at about 17,000 words on its way to 80,000, waiting for me to get back to it. My poetry book is finished, in the drawer waiting for me to decide how to market it. I’ve got lots of articles written, one published in print and 110 published at Internet sites with more on the way. I’m building a stable of articles. Whether these will develop and demonstrate a platform or simply be an exercise will be seen in the next few years.

So where does that leave me? I wanted to tell a story, but that’s not what publishers wanted to buy, so I’m trying to do what the publishers want. But the writing bug has definitely bit me. I want my words to have an impact on the world, specifically to further the cause of Jesus Christ. I want my secular writings to be underpinned by a Christian worldview that comes out in very subtle ways. I want my Christian writings to be directly helpful to those of the faith.

I’m not sure where I stand. It’s been an interesting journey so far, a journey that I’m not about to give up, but which I can’t tell where I am on it. I hope someday I’ll be able to write my autobiography and title it The Journey Was A Joy. Guess I’m still heading in that direction.

Engineering, freelance writing, poetry

A Freelance Success

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Good evening, all you faithful readers. I’m just back from writers guild, where I shared my long poem “A Woodland Acre” from my poetry book Father Daughter Day. I’m going through that book four pages at a time (four pages is our limit). Last week this stopped me in the middle of the poem. This week, however, two of our members were gone, and two who were there were not there last week. So they had me read it all from the beginning. Good reviews.

Tonight I had an e-mail from the editor at BiblioBuffet, and on-line magazine featuring reading and books. One of my February freelance submittals was an article titled, “When the Vehicle Will Be Worthy of the Spirit,” about the beginning of Carlyle and Emerson’s correspondence. They are going to publish it in their guest column section, probably a month or so from now. The pay is small, but there is pay. I don’t know what the exposure will be, but it can’t hurt. It’s possible that, after a few guest columns, I could become a regular columnist at an increased pay. Once the article goes up I’ll post a link on Arrow. I worked hard on that article, and to have it accepted is gratifying.

Every small writing success puts me on the upward track of the roller coaster. Or is it the downward track (the metaphor being reversed of the real life experience)? The one that is more pleasurable. There are enough rejections in writing to cause misery and despair that you need to latch on to the few successes and ride the wind with them. Hmmm, was that enough metaphors to mix?

So I’m happy tonight. I’ll probably read twenty pages in the Coulson book, four pages in an alumni mag, and who knows what else. A couple of articles for Suite 101 are turning over in the gray cells.

Oh, today was also good because I finished my paper for my March 31st presentation, only one day behind the deadline. Also I finished a work related article on erosion and sediment control at construction sites that I’ll probably submit tomorrow. It’s not a bad article, somewhat of a rebuttal of an article a year ago in that mag. I suspect there’s no pay involved, but it’s another credit. Oh, and I had a lunch meeting with a woman I met at the Dallas conference. She is with a business right here in the area, and it looks as if she’ll have some work for CEI. Not right away, but it would be nice to get enough business to justify the cost of the trip.

So, all in all a good day. I’ll take ’em any chance I can.

poetry

R.I.P. Hunter, 1997-2009

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I have a picture of him somewhere, though I don’t think I can upload it to any of the computer I normally work at. If I can find the card, I’ll add a picture later.

Hunter was our dachshund. He joined our family in the fall of 1998, age 18 months. We had not had a dog for several years, and he was a delight from the start. He was friendly to a fault. One time when he wandered from our yard, he gladly hopped in the dog-catchers car. Anything to go for a ride.

He loved to hop up on the couch when I sat there, or when I lay there taking a nap. He would wedge himself between me and the back of the couch. That was his favorite position, to be wedged in behind someone. He seemed to enjoy the television, though possibly what he enjoyed most was his human company.

In the yard he loved chasing squirrels and digging after moles. If he found a carcass of any kind in our field, he would role on top of it. He especially liked to do this right after we gave him a bath. Running in the field was a favorite pastime of his.

In March 2003, at a time when we had another, more quiescent dog, and four foster children, we gave Hunter (I should say my wife gave Hunter) to her step-sister’s family in Oklahoma City. That meant we got to see him from time to time, and he even came back for one or two visits to Bella Vista. He had a good life there, and they took good care of him. But at 12 years of age he was beginning to suffer. We learned in their Christmas letter that they had him put to sleep a few weeks ago.

This is not as sad as a human death (I’ll be writing about one of them soon), nor as if he had been with us these last six years, but still it is sad. Hunter was the inspiration for the following poem, a parody of Leigh Hunt’s famous “Jenny Kissed Me”.

Hunter Licked Me

Hunter licked me on the nose,
showing me his deep affection.
Whimpering, this dachshund knows
who provides food and protection.
Tell me that my poems won’t sell,
that no muse has ever picked me.
Call me crazy, but then yell
“Hunter licked me.”

poetry, Robert Frost, writer's platform, Writing

I Should Be Writing

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Back from the funeral, no major household projects going on, reasonable workload at the office, no upcoming trip to prepare for, the checkbook mostly up to date, household finances needing only 30 minutes to bring them up to date. I should be writing. But I’m not.

Yesterday I posted one of my older poems for critique at the Absolute Write poetry forum. Three crits later it’s sinking and will hit the oblivion of page 2 today. That caused me to pull out Father Daughter Day yesterday and go through it last night and mark edits that had either accumulated in my mind or that I saw as I read. That’s done, and I’ll type those edits today sometime. And I did a very minor critique of another person’s poem yesterday.

More than a week ago I began a new article for Suite101.com, about preparing for a deposition. Since I had just done that, I thought it would make for a good article, quickly written. Then the funeral trip interrupted me, and I haven’t felt like getting back to it. I even did some key word research using some Google tools, and it looks as if it will be a profitable article. Yet, I just don’t feel like writing it.

I suppose I’ll snap out of it soon. Maybe if I get those few entries made in my financial spreadsheet I’ll feel freed-up to write again. I think what’s holding me back is the utter futility of it all. And the realization I’m trying to build a platform that may or may not grow to the size I need. My articles on Suite 101 are getting page views at a current rate of 80,000 per year. That’s good! Eighty-thousand people a year are reading my stuff. But almost none of those people are looking for my writing. They are looking for information on something, and happen to find mine by a search engine. So will an editor see all those hits and all those people reading my writing as evidence of a platform and quality writing, or as an accident?

Still, I’ve nothing else to do but plunge back in and get some more articles up. Three more and I begin earning a ten percent bonus. I could have three articles up in three days. I’ll do it. I’ll probably get that one article finished and post it tonight, and shoot for having two more up by Sunday. During our weekend trip I worked on the analysis of another Robert Frost poem. That will give me at least three articles.

I still need to articulate steps two and three of my platform-building plan. Maybe I’ll make that my next post.

Danny Tompkins Short Stories, poetry, Writing

‘Tis the Season – for Submittals

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I had good intentions of blogging over the weekend. The wife is away, I’ve kept the house neat, and had no major yard work to do. But a summer cold hit, and I found myself with no gumption to write much of anything. By Sunday evening I felt much better (thought my scratchy voice belied that), and I finished a difficult article at Suite101.com and came close to finishing a second. Today I’m much better, at work, and have energy for writing.

At the Absolute Write forums I responded to a post titled “when you fell in love with poetry…”. I explained my hatred for poetry for many years, brought on by a series of English teachers who insisted on interpretation of poems I didn’t see–but I don’t really want to get into that today. I got over my hatred of poetry, rather late in life I’m afraid, but not too late to embrace it for appreciation and try it for a writing outlet. As I wrote that post at AW, and as I thought about when it was I began enjoying and then writing poetry, it suddenly dawned on me that it was August 31, 2001 that I began writing my first serious adult poem. Eight years ago today. I remember it well, sitting out in the grassy area near the pines on the north side of our former house. But I prate.

The other important thing about this date is actually tomorrow, September 1. That is the day that many, many literary magazines open up again to submissions. Most of these are associated with universities and colleges, and close down during summer. September through May submission periods are quite common. Last spring I sent out six submissions for my short story, “Mom’s Letter”. I think I missed the submission window by a couple of days on one of them. Heard back on three or four–rejections.

With the new submissions season, I need to decide what to do about the short story and about submitting some poems. I didn’t submit any poems anywhere in 2008. I think I need to make some submissions this year. So over the next couple of weeks I’ll be reviewing my inventory, seeing which ones seem most promising to me. Then I’ll have to get back to work researching markets and see which ones look most promising to me. Then I’ll have to marry the two.

This isn’t the type of work I enjoy about writing, but it’s necessary, so I will do it. Now, back to engineering for a couple of hours.

poetry, Robert Frost

Robert Frost on Poetry

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Last night I was dead tired when I got home, for some reason. Was it the emotional letdown after the successful class I taught during yesterday’s noon hour? Or was it my bagworm ministry for 35 minutes before church yesterday evening? Or might it just be over-eating and under-sleeping while the wife’s away? For whatever reason, I slept the sleep of the dead last night–until about 3:30 AM, when I woke up and felt something crawling on me, something insect-sized. I pulled it off, squished it between fingers, and rolled over. I suspect a tick picked up from the bagworm infested bush. Of course, after that I imagined every little itch to be a tick and probably pulled off several imaginary ones. Still, I got back to sleep and slept well.

I’m working on several articles for Suite101.com, including one on a book I checked out from the Bentonville library, The Notebooks of Robert Frost. I waited for this book to come in, then was somewhat disappointed in it when I finally got it. I guess I expected to see drafts of all of Frost’s famous poems and observe how he went about his compositions. Or maybe I expected copious notes of his poetic philosophy, or preparation for his many lectures.

The book has little of that. I’m going to write a review of it for Suite101.com, so I can’t put all of what I want to say here. But I did find an interesting segment with some quotes on poetry. Quotations allegedly from Frost about “Poetry is…” are rampant, such as “Poetry begins in delight and ends in wisdom.” Maybe he said this, maybe he didn’t. I never see those with source citations. But this book documents some things Frost wrote about poetry. In his Notebook 38, he wrote the following under the heading “Poetry”:

  • Poetry is prowess
  • Poetry is the renewal of words
  • Poetry is the dawning of an idea
  • Poetry is that which tends to evaporate from both prose and verse when translated.
  • Poetry is the Liberal Arts. The Liberal Arts are Poetry.
  • A poem is a momentary stay against confusion
  • Poet is a master of sentiment

According to footnotes in the book, the prowess comment would be related to Frost’s lecture titled “Poetry as Prowess”, and the renewal comment is related to his lecture titled “The Renewal of Words”.

Now, I have not yet studied these sayings of Frost. Perhaps he wrote them together in notebook 38 as a list of lectures given or that he thought he might give someday. I see that he repeated a couple of these in notebook 26.

The notebooks are hard reading, and I can see I would need to own a copy to really get much out of them, for in the little time I have the book for (actually, it’s already three days overdue), and as difficult as it is to read for long sittings, I’m not getting all that much out of it. But he has some gems in it that are worth thinking and remembering. In the same notebook 38, after his list of what poetry is, he has this statement, evidently intended to be another statement of what poetry is:

  • Difference between smoke and smoke rings.

That’s good enough for me. Off to the library now to beg forgiveness and hopefully renew this overdue book for a couple of more weeks. I need to see a few more gems in it.

poetry

Of Bagworms and Blackberries

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Don’t confuse the title of this post with my sonnet “Of Bollards and Berms” (which garnered a bit of critique and discussion at AW-password is citrus. No, this is about my war against the bagworms and my quest for blackberries–the edible kind.

My first experience with blackberry picking was in Snug Harbor, Rhode Island, on a vacant lot, or couple of lots, right behind the stony beach we went swimming at when we didn’t drive over to East Matunuk. They grew right next to a cleared field, so getting them was easy. As kids we probably ate as many as we brought home. The fun was in the picking, not in the having. Years later, on a return to Rhode Island, the blackberry patch was gone, torn out to make room for waterside houses. Alas.

Now I pick blackberries both for enjoyment and for food. I love the taste, and they taste even better because they are free. The cost for a half-gallon: an hour and a half on a Saturday morning, a few scratches, two chigger bites, and maybe a pound of water sweated away. I’m having some right now, as I write this, with lunch. Now, a quart of blackberries won’t stretch the budget a whole lot, but it will help. Especially if we get another quart this Saturday, when the temperatures are supposed to be fifteen degrees cooler than last Saturday.

Now, as far as bagworms go, I am at war with them. Not at home, but at church. There we have four evergreen bushes of some type, a cedar relative, kept neatly trimmed but not otherwise maintained–except by me. Every May the first bagworms appear. I pick them off and squish them under foot. But I never take time to go through the bushes thoroughly. So they are back in June and abundant in July. No one seems to see them or care about them except me.

I’m enough of a HEED-onist (only URI grads will know the background of that) to not want to spray some kind of chemical on the plant to kill them. So I pick the bags off the bush. I used to do that at our property in Bentonville, and never lost a bush. Did that back in Kansas City too, if I remember correctly. It’s more work than spraying, but it has to be environmentally friendly.

So I pick, and pick. Yesterday I got to church 30 minutes early to have 20 to pick bag worms. I came with a doubled plastic sack (that’s a bag to your Rhode Islanders) and had it about 1/3 full when my time was up. I picked one bush clean; it only had a few. I moved to the next one which was fully infested, and could stand in one spot and pick forever, moving branches to get the ones that were hiding. All the time I’m picking, I’m stewing, wondering why no one else cares enough about the poor evergreen bush to rid it of these parasites. People pass me by, heading into church, and ask what I’m doing. No one stops to help, except Jeremy, the grandson of my best friend in these parts. He sees it as a child’s game. But, like most child’s games, I’m on my own again in ten minutes.

But I’ve decided this is one of my ministries. It fits my personality. It’s solitary. It’s mindless, allowing for mental multi-tasking. It is limited in time duration: by the mid-August I’ll either have saves the bush or it will be dead. It’s a service no one will even know I did, except for those few who saw me–and Jeremy, of course. It doesn’t involve any interpersonal relationships–except Jeremy, of course. What better ministry could there be?

Well, my blackberries are fully consumed. They were good, but somehow not as good as they were when eaten straight from the vine on a hot summer day. And, they seemed just as enjoyable as they did when they were a child’s game during a Rhode Island summer. The joy is still in the picking, but eating them is nice, real nice.

freelance writing, Harmony of the gospels, poetry, Robert Frost, Suite 101

Miscellaneous Musing on an Unexpectedly Free Lunch Hour

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I should probably be writing something that will someday lead to revenue, but I find myself drawn here instead. I had a lunch appointment today, but the other party cancelled unexpectedly. I’ll have to go out and buy something shortly, but until then I’ll enter a few miscellaneous musings here.

  • I’m up to 19 articles posted on Suite101.com, and have maybe four in the hopper that may jump out this weekend. The writing is enjoyable. Unlike at some Internet content sites I get to choose my own topics, the articles go life as soon as I post them, and I can edit them as needed. Unfortunately, so far I have earned only $0.03 (not a typo) based on ad clicks, on none for over a week.
  • This search engine optimization thing (SEO) is going to have a steep learning curve, I’m afraid. No doubt my failure to do this well is keeping my page views low, thus fewer viewers to click on the ads. But to learn SEO will take hours and hours of reading and experimentation. You have to know this because Google and other search engines are the main way readers find your articles. So titles, subtitles, meta tags (still not quite sure what they are or if they still hold importance or not-the SEO experts seem unsure of this), and image captions all need to be “key-word rich”. Yuck. I must now bow down to the Google altar.
  • Suite 101 now requires that each article include at least one image, preferably more. This is adding a lot of minutes to the time it takes to ready an article for posting. Yet, the SEO experts say this is part of SEO and I will benefit by doing it. I have to believe the experts, I suppose, but I’ll believe it when I see it.
  • As expected, writing for Suite101.com is taking pretty much all my creative writing time. I’ve not even thought about other freelance queries, or novels, or Bible studies. Well, except for the Bible study I’ll begin teaching in about three weeks. I have that pretty much completed as much as I need for teaching. And about a week ago I worked on an appendix to the Harmony of the Gospels. I have about an hour to do to finish that appendix, and hope to do it this weekend.
  • The good news is that poetry has returned and filled what little time I have for creative writing outside of the Suite stuff. It hasn’t returned in a big way, but at least it has returned. Possibly writing the Suite articles on Robert Frost was part of the catalyst for that.

Well, I’m off to either buy a lunch or forage. This weekend may be the height of blackberry season in these parts, and I hope to pick a bunch.